Mother, Gaia (A Thasmin Fanfiction)

Chapter Six-- Vagabonds Walk This Suitcase Town

Mountains by Message to Bears (Graham's Theme)

The station stands out in the meadows, or what is left of it. The glass caved in a few days ago—Yaz heard the distant rumbling, like a roaring waterfall. Now, it's nothing more than a pile of rubble and broken glass, a speck in a vast open space. Yaz stands at the edge of camp. The morning breeze ruffles her dark hair, making goosebumps crawl up her arms. She had been cramped for days, jumping from tent to tent, giving humanitarian aid where she can. Behind her, hundreds of tents dot the golden hillside. She stands at the edge of it all, trying to ignore sounds of bustling day-to-day life behind her. She takes in a breath of crisp mountain air, making her whole body feel light. Her bones ache from haul last night—they've had to relocate twice, now. The bacteria are spreading fast over the valley, creating a barren landscape of red dust around the hillside of where the station used to be. Despite the destruction in her wake, Yaz can't look away. Those crystalline mountains comfort her; it's the only landmark she can trust to stand the test of time. That certainty used to take the shape of a woman, that never-ending spark wandering a transient universe. Now, Yaz can't bear to look at the makeshift city behind her. A woman lies in one of those tents, alone, clinging to life. She can feel her presence in the back of her head, a heavy weight pressing into the back of her skull.

"Yaz," Ryan's voice calls out to her. It's the only sound that can tear her gaze from those mountains, settling on her old friend with Graham by his side. He showed up amongst the crowds two nights ago, after their first relocation. The boys have been inseparable since, jumping between tents together to deliver food and other essentials. Both of their faces are sunken, the spark of light dimming in their eyes. Graham tries to give her a reassuring smile, despite it all. They are silent statues in a field, dotted amongst the occasional pine that springs out of the grass.

"We're gonna go see the Doc," Graham explains, "You coming with us?"

Yaz nods to him, unable to speak. She can't explain that deep, dark pit in her stomach that grows heavier with each step she makes toward the tent encampment. That wonderful woman is hidden in the crowd of vagabonds, her once ever-present life now wasting away in silence. With someone like the Doctor, Yaz assumed dying would be a bright flash of light, that display of fireworks against the coldness of space on New Year's Day.

With a shattered reality, she forces herself forward, walking toward Ryan and Graham. They lead her on, guiding her through the maze of tents and the people that make their home here. Countless rangers wander about, eyes dull and focused on the ground. Some look at the sky. New resources should be here soon, along with the ship that will send the next group of refugees home. It's the only hope that most folks have here— the promise of home within the coming weeks, knowing that the spaceships that come and go will take them back to comfort. It's a hope that Yaz can't hold on to. The TARDIS feels so far away, and without a pilot, they have nowhere to go. She takes a deep breath, her lip trembling. Perhaps the Doctor isn't the god she took for granted, but she has to stay strong, for her sake.

~~~

"Just give it to me straight. Is she gonna make it out of this?" Graham asks.

Even with death looming over her, the Doctor looks peaceful. Her face is relaxed, her chest rising and falling at a slow rhythm. Yaz presses her hand against the glass of the Doctor's pod, watching her through the glass. She still wears the same old vest and slacks from the night they danced. The sleeves are ripped and torn away, revealing puffy red skin. The pod heals her burns, but those brilliant eyes haven't opened for days. It's like a whole universe closed itself off to sleep away the endless night.